


The Apprentice

by fuzzybatbutts



Category: Batman (Comics), Robin (Comics), Teen Titans (Animated Series), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Blood and Torture, Broken Bones, Dick Grayson is Robin, Gore, I'm Sorry, Medical Trauma, Other, Psychological Torture, Robin is very sad, Torture, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-08-19 14:32:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8212103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzybatbutts/pseuds/fuzzybatbutts
Summary: It has been close to a year since Deathstroke forced Robin to come and train as his apprentice, and it has not been an easy journey. He's been forced to attack his own friends and disregard his own morals time and time again and Slade does not intend for it to stop any time soon. Piece by piece everything Robin once knew is being stripped away and replaced against his will and it may take everything he has to hold onto what little of his life remains. Just as Robin is determined to break free, Slade is determined to hold on and he is not a kind Master.





	1. Disobedience

“You see brat, this is why I told you not to disobey me.”

Robin gagged as Slade held him up by his throat, cutting off his air and seconds away from crushing his windpipe into nothing but dust. His fingers pried weakly at Slades relentless grip, but he was far too weak to do anything but flail helplessly under the strong hands. He swore he could feel every blood vessel pop one by one in his neck and see the disgusting bruises that would without doubt be there the next morning. 

“Robin answer me this.”

What little air that had been left in his lungs escaped him as he was tossed like trash to the floor, leaving him gasping and teary from the pain. Even trying to roll to his side was far too much effort and there wasn’t even enough energy in his body to cough. He could only wheeze and try desperately to stay awake for he was certain if he passed out now he’d never wake up. It was hard enough to hear Slade over the massive gears that ground and spun around him, with his rasping added on he had to strain his ears to hear what was being said. 

“My dear boy,” said Slade, slowly walking over to the barely conscious boy, “this entire event could have been avoided had you only listened to me. So pray tell, why do you insist on repeatedly finding ways to ignore me?”

“Oof!”

Robin managed to curl into a ball as Slade delivered a vicious kick to his ribs. He could feel the fragile bones snap like dry twigs as the steel boot met again with this chest. They’d been fractured and shattered so many times his chest had been deformed and it was hard for him to breathe due to the near constant pain of the crooked bones digging into his skin. Slade would have him healed only if it began to interfere with his fighting and ability to sneak around. Any other injury was Robin’s fault, so it was left to heal its own way no matter how much pain it caused him. 

Slade crouched down to be closer to Robin’s face. It was infuriating not to see his expression, even though Robin knew that it would be his usual blank stare. He’d told him that it was vital that Robin learned how to control his facial expressions, but Slade had years of practice and Robin tended to fight best when he was angry. He could never guess what the man was thinking since he remaining eye seemed to be in a glassed over state at all times. 

Gritting his teeth to stifle a moan Robin went limp as Slade hauled him up by his left hand, putting extra pressure on the digits he knew were already broken from being tossed around. He’d already fractured several of his knuckles from battling the guards who’d been protecting Slade’s latest treasure. It hadn’t helped that they’d managed to like a strike him with the batons they’d used in several sore spots, making him lash out in anger. It was part of the reason Slade was being so harsh this time. He’d had Slade whispering in his ear on every job, repeating the same mantra to help keep his emotions in check. This time however even Slade’s threats couldn’t stop the outraged boy from taking things a little too far. 

He’d be surprised if that poor guard could ever eat again after he’d finished with him. 

“You know Richard I’d really hoped after your last punishment you’d have started to know better but I see you’ll take some persuasion to get to the point I need you.”

Robin hissed as bloodied saliva dripped down his chin, “D-don’t… don’t… call me that. Only my fah-father gets to c-call me that.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” said Slade with heavy sarcasm in his voice, “I didn’t realize you were the one in charge here. Guess I’ll just have to reinforce my position here.”

With minimal effort, Slade threw Robin over his shoulder like a sack and began walking to one of the smaller clusters of gears in the tower. The sharp sting of Slade’s shoulder slamming into Robin’s cracked ribs coaxed a small moan from his damaged throat, and he felt chuckle at the sound. 

“What sounds you make pretty bird. It’s a shame you won’t act out nearly as much after this.”

Robin couldn’t think. His brain was nothing but white noise and a little voice he recognized as his own screaming at him to get away, do anything he could to get off Slade’s shoulder and leave this damned tower. He’d been trapped inside it for what seemed like a lifetime and knew it wouldn’t be much longer until he broke down completely. Slade was strict unlike anyone he’d ever known, even Bruce paled compared to him. 

The thought of one day leaving brought a new flush of tears to his eyes as he knew it would never happen unless Slade ordered him out on a job. He’d almost forgotten the feel of a gentle breeze blowing through his air since it was forbidden for him to remove the mask he’d been given. 

Through the months of beating and hard training it was near impossible for Robin to remember his old life. His friends who still sat cluelessly in their tower, mourning their friend who to them had died long ago. His father, the second father he’d lost probably sitting alone in their house wasting away. Or maybe he’d been replaced? He didn’t know what was worse. Slade had become his whole life, the only one who claimed to care about him. Nothing outside this tower was real anymore. 

“On your feet boy. I trained you better than this,” he growled, eye narrowing through the mask. 

Robin stood awkwardly on his feet, knees knocking together and entire body shaking from the pain he’d been forced to suffer through. Slade pulled a small metal cord from his belt and bound Robin’s right hand to his torso and leaving the left free. Seeing the cord brought back flashes of memories Robin didn’t want to acknowledge. He was determined to leave those in some dark corner of his mind where they could stay until he died, but that chord brought them to light much too easily. 

Slade seized his free hand and held it to the gears they’d stopped by as Robin slowly clued in as to what Slade’s intentions were. He started to struggle and cry out, jerking his body uselessly in a pathetic attempt to distance himself from the powerful gears.

“Please! Please, I’m so sorry please don’t do this!”

Tears poured out of his eyes and he meekly tried once more to pull away, but his legs had no strength and his other arm was immobile. A fear he’d never known before consumed his entire being and he turned into a sobbing mess. Slade slowly forced his hand closer and closer until it was millimeters away from the teeth of the gear. “God I’m so sorry, please Slade do-”

He was cut off by a ruthless backhand to the face, the metal of the gloves digging into his cheek and tearing open fresh cuts along his cheekbone. “Excuse me son but I don’t think I heard you correctly. What did you say?”

Robin tried to open his mouth but did so too slowly for Slade’s liking, receiving another slap across the face. “Speak boy!”

“Forgive me, Master. Please, I understand how I acted was wrong but please don’t do this,” Robin wailed, tears streaming down his face as he practically screamed his apologies, “Please, I’ll be good. I’ll never speak again when I’m out. I’ll stay in line!”

Slade shook his head, “Pretty words boy but they’re no more than empty promises, we both know that. You’ve given me a similar speech before and look where it’s gotten us. You don’t get to fool me again Robin. I’ve learned my lesson, unlike yourself. ”

Slowly, Slade tightened his grip on Robin’s wrist and forced it into the jaws of the gears. His smallest finger went first, the flesh and bone mashed together as Robin watched his own hand slowly be ground into a bloody pulp. Blood misted into the air and sprayed over both of them like an airbrush painting. 

The scream that rose from his chest was primal, and ripped his damaged throat apart like tissue paper. Slade seemed surprised by it, but continued feeding the hand into the metal like nothing had happened. Nothing could deter him once his mind was set and now it was set on crippling his apprentice for good it seemed. 

Robin could feel every second of the process, like his body had exhausted his supply of adrenaline and he was left to the mercy of whatever nerve endings he had left in his body. It felt like he’d shoved his hand into a slow moving meat grinder and couldn’t turn it off. When the teeth began to chew into his palm his hand folded in half as the muscles contracted and stretched apart until they tore. The sound of the flesh ripping made him puke, the vile mess spewed from his mouth and onto the floor.

His nose began to bleed as the stomach acid worked its way into his sinuses sending fire throughout his face, but it paled in comparison to the inferno in his wreck of a hand. The pain shot up his arm and tore its way into his chest like a bomb being set off as the gears continued to slowly work their way across his hand without pause. He was amazed it hadn’t been severed completely in half despite the blood that now served as oil for the gears coating the metal in a thick layer.

When Slade turned the machine off the gears separated and he began the grisly task of prying Robin’s hand off the metal, he almost begged him to simply leave it there. His hand was nothing more than a mess of gore and bone chips, with what remained of his fingers hanging at odd angles. Bits of the flesh remained pressed into the metal and ripped away from the damaged appendage. It almost looked like something out of a cheesy horror movie, with strips of flesh still attached to his hand pulling away like loose strings. 

Dick had been trained to use both hands as an acrobat as both were necessary for the various tricks he’d learned in his youth from his family. Even his metal staff needed both his hands to fight and maneuver with. He carried the legacy of the Flying Graysons on his shoulders and every time he’d soared over buildings with Bruce or his fellow Titans, but with a large portion of his hand now missing and the other grotesquely misshapen and completely void of feeling he felt that that legacy was going to die. As he raised the mess of his hand to his face he knew there was no chance he was ever going to be able to use it again, even if Slade somehow managed to heal it. He looked up at Slade with horror in his eyes, like the first time he’d been out on patrol and watched helplessly as someone was shot in front of him.

“Robin I can replace your hand with a prosthetic as your abilities would be severely hindered without it,” He walked away from the boy and talked without looking back, “I myself am slightly disabled due to my eye however I can fight without it. Your hand is a different matter.”

“However I must ensure that you’ve learned your lesson. I won’t replace your hand for a few weeks and you won’t be given any painkillers. You will need to prove to me that you are worthy and that I should replace it. While the new hand is grown from your DNA let this serve as a reminder child.”

Robin looked away from his hand and into his keepers back as he spoke, “Consider this a gift of good faith and that I trust you to not disobey again. Next time you’ll be left without an arm and that’s if I’m feeling generous if that day comes.”

The sound of Robin crashing to the floor echoed through the room as the blood loss and shock became too much for him to bear. His skull hit the floor with a wet smack as Slade turned to look at the limp body of the boy. He sighed and closed the door behind him, leaving the mess of a child for the servants to deal with. 

Robin would need a lot more training before he’d be perfect, Slade knew that, he just wished the boy wouldn’t look so damned pitiful while he was paying for his mistakes. It was a lot harder to give him these little reminders when those eyes were staring up at him. 

Slade shook his head and went off to one of the few balconies the tower offered to clear his mind. That child had a peculiar way of worming his way into what remained of Slade's emotions.

That needed to end.


	2. Pain

Pain had an interesting effect on the passage of time. He couldn’t tell if it’d been days, or only hours since his hand had been ground into a paste between the gears. It blocked out his vision with unrelenting sheets of red and sparks flew every time he tried to move any part of his body. The pain came in waves, a tsunami growing worse with each passing second as he lay helplessly on the floor of his near barren room. The cold cement flooring offered no release from the heat radiating out from what was left of his hand. His throat was raw from crying and screaming out for friends he no longer had to come to his rescue. He could taste blood in the back of his throat. His head ached fiercely from it slamming into the floor when Slade had cast him aside like a broken doll. 

A doll. That’s all he was. A puppet for Slade to toy with. Robin feared the day, if it were to come, when Slade decided he was too much trouble for what he was worth. 

Concentrating, he rolled onto his side and looked up at the bed frame. When Slade came back he knew he couldn’t be on the floor screaming like a child throwing a fit. God help him if he couldn’t at least prop himself up on the bed frame. Despite the hundreds of lessons he’d been subject too one stood out like a black sheep in the heard and that was endurance was key. Slade would often go on about times where he’d been pierced by metal rods but still managed to kill his target. Fear fueled him more than the pain at the thought of what else Slade could do if his little apprentice wasn’t up and ready to go at his command. 

God, just don’t look at it

His stomach lurched remembering seeing the wreck of his hand once and he had no intention of seeing it again anytime soon. 

Gotta get up. Just need to sit up.

He could feel his broken ribs shift underneath his skin and tried not to vomit as the pain ran rampant through his body. The two lowermost ribs on his right side broke more often than the rest and he knew it was these two tormenting him. His breathing was labored because of the pain, luckily his lung hadn’t collapsed or been punctured from the bone fragments no doubt floating around in his body. This sharp pain was not new to him in the slightest as unfortunate as that was, but the feeling in his hand was. 

Steeling himself, he brought the shaking mess of his left hand to his chest and braced himself. He tried not to cry out as he slowly pushed himself up into a seating position. His head went blank as he almost slipped into unconsciousness, his body so tired from the trauma it could barely move. 

Use your legs, cmon just push yourself up. We can do this.

He reasoned with himself that the pain of sliding his body upwards would be better than sitting on a cold floor that was now sticky with drying blood. Robin ground his teeth together as his trembling legs slowly pushed him upwards. It felt like his entire body had just been pulled out of a red hot inferno as his muscles screamed in protest of their sudden movement. He’d practically been used as a punching bag in his last mission, forgetting what extra damage Slade had done after the fact he’d already been in rough shape. 

Gotta give it to Cyborg, guy knows how to throw a punch

Cyborg… was he one of the specters that haunted Robins dreams of late? Yes, they had been friends once upon a time, or so he thought. His heart dropped at the thought of them, and he collapsed back down onto the floor unable to control a sob that wracked his body and seemed to tear his mind to shreds. 

Robin had trouble remembering a time when they’d called him a friend, their comrade in the fight for justice and all that useless smoke. Slade often insisted they’d never been friends, that his desperate brain was making the entire thing up as a coping mechanism. It was so confusing. If he had been their friend, how could they hurt him like this? Sure he wore a mask, but they’d surely have recognized him somehow. The former flying Grayson’s fighting style was unique enough that they should have realized who they were fighting. Slade had made some adjustments but there must have been enough left over from what he was before.

Not for the first time, Robin questioned his memories, if he could even call them that. Was Slade lying to him? Had he truly never known these people? In his dreams he remembered Starfire smiling and laughing at some stupid joke he’d made, but in reality she was a hard girl with no remnants of his memories left in her. He told himself it was out of grief of losing her friend that had stolen the smile from her face, but then again those dreams were becoming more and more scarce by the passing days. In more recent times they’d been dreams of their constant fights and them wishing him dead. 

He’d asked Slade about it once after he’d insisted they’d always been his enemies and his answer made him even more confused.

“You should know Robin. You should remember if you were friends with these people, but dear boy remember this. In all the time we’ve spent together, have I ever lied to you?”

He spoke the unfortunate truth. Slade had never lied to him in the months they’d been together, telling him that harsh truths were part of the job and that accepting them and moving on was just as important as learning to fight. For all his horrific faults, Slade was an honest bastard.

Robin pressed his right hand to his forehead and tried to shake it off. If Slade said they’ve never known each other, it was likely they hadn’t despite the dreams telling him otherwise. 

But how could I dream these things if they’d never happened?

Robin shook his head in frustration and sighed, pushing the topic from his mind. Once again he gritted his teeth and forced his legs to push him up and onto the bed, falling onto the thin bedroll that sat atop the wooden frame with a loud moan of pain. Finally his body completely gave out and he fell back onto his side, smacking his head against the wood and reopening the cut from when Slade had thrown him in there. He knew blood was already matting his hair and it’d be awhile before he could get rid of it. HIs body lacked the strength to walk anywhere. 

Heh, worried about appearances in this situation? Must be the shock

His vision blurred as he attempted to force his body back upwards and a sudden wave of nausea hit him like a brick. 

Great, add massive concussion to the list

Shock seemed the reasonable explanation for his state for as long as he kept the hand out of his sight he could simply focus on the pain and not how he’d have to be fitted with a prosthetic hand, and that was if Slade decided to even do that. He wouldn’t be shocked if his throat was simply slit and he was dumped into some river, or left him with a useless stump. 

Robin knew he had to access the damage of his hand since he’d already lost enough blood to make his skin go white, but the thought of seeing the mush of flesh made tears come again to his eyes. He didn’t know if he could bare seeing the mess again.

Just get it over with

One of the few things in his room was a stock of first aid supplies that he was told he must learn on his own. He was mostly responsible for patching himself up but half of his damn hand was missing, it felt a little out of his pay grade to be even attempt temporarily stopping the bleeding. With his whole body shaking, he slowly peeling his left hand away from his chest where it’d be stuck.

Only his pointer finger and thumb were left and over half his palm had been claimed by the gears relentless teeth. With the rest brutally torn away, it reminded Robin of the jagged edge of torn paper but made into flesh. He could see the tendons that had been sliced in half and the remaining bones in his palm may as well have been powder. Blood was leaking out at an alarming rate and he knew several of the small arteries had been severed. It wasn’t massive enough that he’d have to tie them off but they still needed immediate care. 

He retched and tried to hold down the stomach acid brewing in his throat with little success. Infection needed to be his main concern at the moment. If his hand was afflicted with gangrene he could lose most of his arm before Slade reacted, which simply couldn’t happen. He lifted a corner of his bed sheet with his good arm and placed in his mouth. Grabbing the opposite end with his teeth, he pulled away a long strip of the linen and carefully placed it on his hand. The fabric brushing against the open tissue felt like pouring peroxide on the wound. He let a cry slip from his mouth before wrapped his hand in the cloth and using his teeth to tie it off. Tears poured from his eyes but at least now the disgusting thing couldn’t be seen. Exhausted, he slid down until he was on his back laying in the bloodsoaked sheet. 

______________

Slade stood at the balcony, looking down over the edge. Ever since he’d taken Robin in as his apprentice he found himself up there more and more. He felt no guilt or anything simple for taking the boy in, in fact he felt like he was doing Robin a favor by harnessing his natural talents, but he definitely felt something akin to concern. 

He hated it.

The only person he’d cared for was his own daughter, but she was long gone. Robin was no son to him but his new fatherly instincts still kicked around. Grunting, he pushed away from the balcony and trudged into the clocktower he’d taken as residence. The thing was massive, with many long hallways and rooms you could only access by climbing the broken stone. It wasn’t a home but it made due for a training ground for Robin. 

He breathed in the familiar stale air as he made his way to his quarters. He needed to pass by the boys room but he reminded himself not to check. Let his footsteps only announce his presence. It wouldn’t come as a shock if he was out cold bleeding to death on the floor, but he could hope he’d trained the boy well enough that that wasn’t an acceptable outing. 

He slipped his mask off as he stalked down the hallway and looked at the fabric in his hands. The familiar colors stared back at him in all their menacing glory. This was the face hundreds had looked into before they died, if he’d even allowed them the pleasure of seeing who killed them. Just a cold, blank stare.

When he reached Robin’s room he paused, listening for any signs of life. He could hear faint breathing. 

A good sign

He continued on down the halls, checking the few windows that littered the walls. He could see the vast ocean below them that stretched on into infinity. It was a nice sight but he reminded himself that distractions could come later, he had arrangements to make for Robin. 

I may have gotten a bit carried away, but he’ll know not to mess around now.

He knew a rogue scientist in the biotechnological field who could fix his apprentice up, but he figured he might as well hurry to contact him. He didn’t want to wait too long and risk Robin’s life, but he couldn’t be too hasty and seem like he cared. As Slade entered his room, he couldn’t help but sigh. Bringing on an understudy was a lot harder than he’d first thought, especially if he was going to have to keep hacking off limbs in order to keep their respect. Robin was vital in dismantling the Titans so as difficult as he was, he was necessary to have under Slade’s wing. 

Even if he was a pain in the ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I'm finally back with another chapter. I'm only like...5 months late. 
> 
> K so I have to give warning, this isn't a Slade/Robin fic. If you're hoping for that, look elsewhere. Sorry it took so long, I've been struggling to write the past few months. Lemme know what you think! Thanks to the few of you that commented on the last chapter, it means a lot to me and is the only reason this chapter got up.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey uh
> 
> SOooooo
> 
> This is my first multi chapter fiction. Yeah it's pretty gnarly I'm sorry but honestly it's probably going to get a lot worse. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking it out to the end of the first chapter and let me know if you guys would be interested in anymore. There will probably be less body horror if that is comforting to anyone. But I'm planning on adding other elements that may make people uncomfortable so hey ho here's your warning. 
> 
> -Percy


End file.
